Control
by Syn'ph
Summary: (This is a remake of INFLD's version in 2011-2012, as she requested for me to finish what she has not.) Due to an overlap in the "Main Galaxy" and the "Other Galaxy", time collapsed, and Earth as Goku and his friends knew it was destroyed. This wouldn't be so bad, except for the effect it had on Vegeta, who never was on Earth on that date, and the citizens of Earth themselves.


**Control  
**

Rated: T+

Summary: Due to an overlap in the "Main Galaxy" and the "Other Galaxy", or the phantom 'Millennial Galaxy' that is on the reverse side of the universe, time collapsed, and Earth as Goku and his friends knew it was destroyed. Time froze into an eternal pattern of 'March 4903', and after the magical point of 00:00, the day reversed back into the beginning of 'March 4903'. This wouldn't be so bad, except for the effect it had on Vegeta, who never was on Earth on that date, and the citizens of Earth themselves. With each passing repeating day, the lack of life energy decreases, making it only a matter of time until everyone on the planet dies.

Warnings: language, violence, slight OOC

Disclaimer: I don't own this. Not the anime nor the story. This story was originally by **I.N.F.L.D**, who has entrusted her story to me, and this is on her behalf. She has allowed me to change the summary. I am taking a whack (after almost a year of nothing but KHR!) to write this story. Please give me your honest feedback. ^^ I will have to re-watch DBZ (for the umpteenth time, haha) to get a feel for how this story will go. Until I get my sea-legs under me, please...just...please help me.

A/N: I was aiming for 1k, since this is my first chapter...instead, I made 2k...and PLEASE, PLEASE excuse the commas. I will fix them tomorrow. I am so tired; I feel like I will fall asleep right here...

* * *

Fall was here.

The sun was halfway in the sky, almost like she wanted to debate whether to shine with all of her might or not. The clouds surrounded her torso, almost like a dress, and it hovered in and throughout the sky. Only bits and pieces of the aquamarine-tinted firmament were visible, and through those tiny holes were the most beautiful rays. Dust radiated from those rays, and was carried by the docile wind. Foreign leaves of many different pigments flew in the distance, filling the sky with a plethora of colors. But the direction of the normal flow was disturbed by a sudden _slap_ in the air.

"C'mon, son, can't you do better than that," a voice inquired with a in the distance. Another distinct _slap_ was discerned in the midst of silence. Like a sudden heartbeat of a once dead animal, the slap was one that disrupted all forms of the usual flow of sound.

"But dad, I haven't sparred in _years_," another voice whined in reply. It was a much younger voice, although the signs of adolescence was not there; it was obvious that puberty had come and gone for that person like the blink of an eye.

"That doesn't matter. Even if you don't spar for years, your body should still remember the movements." The older man, a tall and handsome brunette, demonstrated his point by throwing a few dozen rapid punches at the young adult that was across from him. Said man dodged all of the hits that the brunette threw at him, but when the older man finished his incursion off with a kick, the man didn't recognize it, and was thrown to the other side of the vast and desolate plains.

"They should still recognize the difference between a punch and a kick. Trunks wouldn't go easy on you like I would, son." He cracked his head to each side multiple times before waiting for his son, a young adult by the name of Gohan, to get right back up on his feet. But the young man didn't, and the brunette paused for a moment to help his son regain his balance.

"Don't even say it, dad," Gohan muttered as he patted his tangerine-colored uniform down with a sweaty hand. "I already know what you want to say. You want me to take time off from the job to practice for the Tournament. Well, I can't do it. I have mouths to feed, and-"

"Yeah," the older man named Goku interrupted quickly with a disarming grin on his face. "But you could also win that money by winning the Tournament! C'mon Gohan; you haven't participated in an event like that since...well...Buu was here on Earth. Even then, Goten and Trunks were the main participants during that time. You mostly sat on the side and watched."

"All good parents do that," the half-Saiyan replied with a displeased expression on his youthful face. He folded his arms patiently as he moved from one foot to the other. He hadn't sparred this vigorously in a long time, and it was taking a toll on his body. Right now, he wanted to sit, lie back, and drink a calming cup of coffee. Maybe the caffeine would soothe his nerves-and his bones. But right now, he was in agony. He was in sheer, pure suffering from the top of his neck to the soles of his feet.

"You don't see a parent-besides yourself and Vegeta-sparring with other adults. And even when they are parents, they are half your _and_ my age. Couldn't you give me a break?"

After a moment of thought, Goku sighed with disappointment. In his mind, sparring was more of a necessity than a chore or an extra. But then again, he was a Saiyan, and he grew up fighting as his first priority. Maybe that was the difference between him and Gohan. Gohan had a human mother who cared about studies, chores, economics, and everything else that came with being a citizen on Earth. But he...he lacked that. Maybe that was why Goku couldn't understand him. After the Buu incident, he had nothing to do but to fight. Trunks had his job as the president of his corporation, and Gohan had his new job as a Bacterial Engineer. He also had to tend to Videl-although Goku had to tend to Chi-Chi, so he couldn't tell the difference-and he had to take care of Pan's college tuition. All of those things were subjects that Goku could and would never understand. If he had all of those problems to deal with everyday, would he still spar?

The Saiyan flexed his fingers as he stared at his son, who was beyond beat and was ready to collapse at any moment. No, he knew inside of his heart that even if he had all of those responsibilities, he would still make room for a good few hours of sparring. It was his nature. Sparring was almost like...his identity.

"Okay," he finally acquiesced hesitantly, staring straight at his sons to watch the emotions that flitted through his burnt, hazelnut-drizzled eyes, "We can stop."

He saw the sheer gratefulness on Gohan's face, and he smiled slightly at the sight. If his son was happy, he guessed that he could cease his training just this once. Maybe Gohan couldn't keep up with him because of Life's troubles. Maybe he could only spar half as fast and half as long as Goku did. He would just have to find someone else then. Piccolo was dead, so even if he wanted to spar with him, he couldn't. Krillen and Yamcha were out; they fought nicely, but he wanted something vigorous and barbarous, something that, just for once, he could let go of the ropes around his arms and _let go_. He wouldn't have to worry about hurting them too much, or worry about other trivial things. He just wanted to fight, and he wanted to fight tough.

They wouldn't do the job.

Pan was off somewhere around the globe to finish her college degree; Trunks was on a business trip and Goten...was on something called a "date", and he told Goku not to interrupt him. They were all out as well.

The only one who he could think of to spar with was...

"So what are you going to do now, son?" Gohan attempted to stretch his legs and arms, but the aching stopped him in his tracks, and he simply shrugged his shoulders. He pushed himself off the ground using the remaining ki that was in his possession. With a push off of the air below him, he began to fly back to his house.

"I have work to do still," Gohan replied softly, rubbing the back of his neck, "but I think I will take a load off first. This sparring session really did me in..."

"I see." The two exchanged a few more simple, flowered up words before Gohan took off like a bandit, not leaving any of his goods behind besides a trail of blood. Goku, on the other hand, also started to leave. He still felt like he needed to spar; for some reason, he was feeling antsy. For the last few weeks, he felt like he needed to do something, but he didn't know what that something was. He assumed that the 'something' was sparring. All day and all night, he sparred with something or someone.

But maybe that wasn't the case.

"Vegeta isn't too far away from here," Goku muttered as he placed two fingers on the top of his forehead, trying to trace the other man's energy. Vegeta, unlike his son's energy, was very violent, almost like a turbulent storm that never ceased. It's shape was that of a lightning bolt, and it's color was that of the evening sun. It was a gentle maroon pigment on the inside layer of the ki, but on the outside, it was ebony. Surrounding the ebony color was a deep iris mist, almost like a cloud of confusion. His ki was one of the many things that intrigued and fascinated Goku. His ki showed his heart, and he knew that the prince was, like his ki, truly a warm person.

But this time, Goku noticed that his ki was more violent than usual. If his ki was usually a storm, then right now, it was a hurricane. It was brutal, and the Saiyan wondered what was wrong. Was he having the same problems that Goku was? Did his heart feel unsettled and uneasy?

He closed his eyes and concentrated. He would see what was wrong with Vegeta, and then he would spar until they both died from exhaustion. It was simple, right?

It should have been.

Instead, Goku felt a ridiculous amount of pain descend on his head; it was almost ten times worse than a regular human migraine. This felt like his brain was being picked apart, and placed back together in a different order. It was almost like a child trying to place the pieces of the puzzle in the right order, only for him to shove some pieces where they did not belong. It was something similar that was happening to his brain. His body felt worse. It was almost as if he was being castrated consciously, where he felt every stroke of the scalpel, and every opening of every pore, and every rip of an organ. He felt it all, and with a sickening yell, he threw up on the ground.

What was this? What was this all of a sudden? Why was this happening?

The last thing that Goku saw before he fell unconscious was a blast of unusual black ki, and an explosion that happened a few feet away.

* * *

A/N: *Sigh* I am sorry for the rocky chapter. But I am not good with intros, especially for animes that I am not familiar with. I will try to improve though, so please give me some time. But like I said above, this is NOT mine; whatever I write is I.N.L.F.D's story. I simply remodeled it. Please review and tell me what you think. Is it bad? Is it good? I will continue this no matter what, but...your feedback is so important. I have no idea how good or bad this story is. That is why I need your help. ^^


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